24 Hours
by SueJRA
Summary: Dean’s deal has come due sending him to Hell and leaving Sam and Bobby to deal with the devastating aftermath. Not the best summary but may be worth a looky loo x


**24 Hours**

by Sue7JRA

**Author's note:** This is a short piece that will either sink or swim and you'll ever like or hate (I hope it's the former) that is meant to capture the aftermath 24hours after Dean does to Hell. It was also started just before the finale aired (but probably won't be posted until after as I write so slowly!) so will not depict what actually happens according to Kripke.

**Disclaimer: **Wish I could lay claim on anything Supernatural, Winchester or J2 related but unfortunately I can't so this is my way of make believing that I can.

Time.

The greatest of all the Universal constants and to most people also considered the greatest of all healers.

To Sam Winchester, time was nothing but a cruel, vicious and vindictive mistress.

In one moment time tortured with how little there could be of it - one year in exchange for a brother's soul. For 365 torturous days Sam had lived with Dean's mortality ticking down like some perverse time bomb. Each new dawn that broke taunted him into trying to find a way to reverse the deal and prevent an undeserving brother from going to Hell

In the next it tormented with the vastness of its infinity – a life left behind without a brother. 11 hours, 17 minutes and 43 seconds ago, Sam had been forced to witness his failure as in the misty hue of a balmy Kansas evening the Hellhounds had come to take what was owed and collect their bounty and time for Dean Winchester had run out.

Sam had tasted both sides of time's double-edged sword and it tasted resoundingly bitter.

Now, after performing a body preservation ritual and burying his adored sibling in hallowed ground, he sat in the passenger seat of his brother's precious Impala feeling numb as his friend and mentor Bobby Singer took up the mantle for the drive to his home in South Dakota. It had been Bobby's suggestion to take the wheel and although Sam had protested initially knowing how Dean felt about anybody but a Winchester driving his baby, upon reflection it was probably a good decision. Considering his fragile emotional state, if he had taken Dean's place in the driver's seat then more than likely it would have taken all of his resolve not to deliberately drive the '67 Chevy classic into a tree or a ditch in order to join his brother in death. Dealing with Dean's loss by being careless with his own life was one thing but to play reaper with their lifelong father figure was something else and Dean would so kick his ass for putting all three of the things he treasured most in danger.

As it was Sam took up his customary shotgun position and stared out of the window paying nothing but a cursory glance at the passing scenery. The low lulling hum of Led Zeppelin played through the speakers enhancing the ache of Dean's absence yet Sam couldn't bring himself to switch the music off. Little things like Dean's taste in music or the smell of his well worn leather jacket were things that Sam had taken for granted when his big brother was alive yet they were all he had left to hold onto now. He turned the music up a little and pulled his father's weathered hand-me-down coat around his shoulders as if still trying to wrap himself in the warmth of Dean's protection. The familiar scent of sandalwood and gunpowder ravaged his senses forcing Sam to close his eyes against the threatened onslaught of a fresh batch of tears.

"You OK son?" Bobby asked suddenly, his quiet gruff voice breaking through the silence and misery engulfing the Impala.

Sam didn't reply but instead kept his head turned in the direction of the window. The reflection coming back at him revealed an abandoned, lost and lonely man who wasn't sure if he would ever be OK again.

Sam hadn't spoken much since Dean had been taken from him because there were no words left in him that he felt held any meaning. A part of him wanted to break down and confess to Bobby the desolation he was feeling, how his heart felt like it had been ripped from his chest in the echo of Dean's screaming departure into the bowels of Hell but that wasn't the Winchester way. Suck it up and deal with it that was the family motto. No matter how much he wanted to pour out his despair to one of his oldest friends, he couldn't physically bring himself to do it so instead he wrapped the coat even tighter around himself, breathing in his brother, kept his emotions in check and remained silent.

Bobby glanced over at the foetal form of the young man left in his charge. Watching Sam struggle to keep his grief in check split Bobby in two. God knows he was barely hanging on to his own composure at the demise of the remarkable young man he would have been proud to call his son but to watch Sam try and deny the gravity of his personal loss broke his heart even more and not for the first time Bobby found himself cursing his old friend at the hard ass way he had raised his two boys

Bobby could never be accused of being an emotional man. The brutal manner of his wife's death had stripped that accolade from him years ago but he had always had a soft spot for John Winchester's boys and never ceased to be amazed at the bond they both shared and how their perceptive connection to one another played to their advantage both on and off the field of battle, so much so that he had often wondered how one would cope without the other should the worse happen. Unfortunately in the last 12 months alone that question had been answered in the cruellest of ways. With the loss of Sam, Dean had sold his soul to bring him back. With the loss of Dean, Bobby feared that Sam was in danger of becoming a loose cannon capable of exploding at any time.

"_Promise me you'll take care of Sammy."_

Dean's final words haunted Bobby as if reminding him not to let that happen. He passed a cursory glance over at Sam and tentatively reached across to place a tender hand on his forearm, feeling the trembling of the young hunter's muscles beneath his touch.

"Sam?" He questioned again, even softer this time, "Are you OK? Talk to me please."

The compassionate touch from one of the family's oldest friends finally broke the dam of Sam's resolve. He looked over his shoulder towards Bobby, the tears falling unashamedly down his face in vast rivers and forlornly shook his head looking to all intent purposes like a little boy lost.

"He's gone Bobby," Sam whispered, his voice breaking on every syllable, "They came, they took him and now he's gone. Dean's dead Bobby, Dean's dead."

Bobby could do nothing but nod in a sad sympathetic gesture, reassuringly squeezing Sam's arm in the hope that he was passing on the understanding he knew his words would fail to give. Instead of taking solace from the act however Sam's whole demeanour changed at the touch and at the words that had come from his own mouth.

A sharp look of realisation engulfed Sam's face and suddenly he felt like he couldn't breathe. It was if by finally admitting the truth that his brother was forever lost to him he had somehow made everything real, like he hadn't really believed his brother was dead until he had actually said it out loud and now he had said it he didn't know how to cope with the revelation.

Without warning Sam felt trapped. All the material things that only seconds ago he had sought comfort from now suffocated him. The music still thrumming its beat in the background now sounded like a requiem mass, the jacket around his shoulders felt like a burial shroud and being inside the Impala felt like he was buried inside a tomb, Dean's tomb. He had to get out.

Shrugging Bobby's hand from his arm, Sam made a panic stricken play for the handle on the passenger door intending to break free of the stifling reality flooding his senses. He didn't seem to care that Bobby was still driving at a pretty swift pace, all he could think of was that he needed to get out of that car and be free of his nightmare.

"Jeez Sam, what are you doing?" Bobby yelled, reaching across to try and keep Sam in his seat while at the same time keep the Impala on the road. He steered wildly causing both he and Sam to sway backwards and forwards across the bench seat, "Are you crazy boy?" he continued, overcorrecting the wheel once again.

"I need to get out Bobby I need to get out!" Sam rambled, fighting against Bobby's restraining hold oblivious to the chaos he was creating and the immediate danger he was putting them both in.

Recognising the panic attack Bobby pulled the car over as quickly and as safely as he could unable to do anything but watch as Sam leapt from his seat the second the car was stationary to run across the thankfully empty carriageway.

Sam didn't get very far, coming to a stop by a large Oak tree several feet down the road. Now he was free of the confines of Dean's most prized possession, he mysteriously had withdrawal anxiety unable to put too much distance between himself and the car. Sam sank to his knees unable to deal with the conflicting feelings passing through his veins like twisted malevolent jolts of electricity. He felt raw, vulnerable and susceptible to any and all kinds of emotional assault. He didn't know what to do or how to feel. Falling back on his haunches, Sam let his head drop into his hands and he cried, not the restrained tears he had let fall in front of Bobby but deep, gnawing, breath stealing cries of absolute desolation. His grief was so overwhelming that he didn't know how he was going to get through the next second let alone the rest of his life without his larger than life sibling, his hero by his side.

Bobby watched events unfold from the relative sanctuary of the car. He could see Sam falling apart fast and was torn between going to help him and giving him the space he needed. He never expected following Dean's legacy to be easy but Sam hadn't even been in his care for 24 hours and already he felt completely out of his depth. How on earth had Dean spent a lifetime with the responsibility of his brother's sanity and safety on his shoulders?

"Damn you Dean!" Bobby cursed softly as he continued to watch Sam. It was painful to witness the breakdown of the youngest Winchester especially to see the sobs that uncontrollably racked the young man's body. He didn't know what he was going to do or say to get Sam through this. "That boy needs his brother here with him," Bobby sadly surmised, "not some hard-assed old hunter with the sensitivity of a buffalo." He broke his gaze away from Sam and brought his head down to rest on the Impala's steering wheel. "Dean," he whispered allowing himself a brief moment to be swallowed up by his own grief, "why did you have to be such a noble sacrificial bastard son?"

A guttural yell from across the street tore Bobby from his reflective regret. Across the road, Sam's emotional rollercoaster had taken another wayward turn and Bobby could see him beating the crap out of the old Oak with his bare fists consumed with rage. Without any further hesitation he was out of the car and by Sam's side in an instant.

"Sam stop!" he yelled reaching out to grab his young charge, "you're hurting yourself, please stop!"

Sam shrugged off Bobby's concerned hold and continued to pound his already split knuckles against the harsh bark. "Dean!" he snarled as he swung another punch, "why did you do it Dean? Why did you leave me you selfish son of a bitch?" He didn't care about the pain shooting through his hands or about the blood spilling across his fingers because feeling something real was better than feeling the empty void that only a brother could fill.

Watching Sam vent his anger in a self-destructive manner broke Bobby's heart a little more than he thought possible. Sam's psyche was all over the place. One second he was knee deep in the intensity of his sorrow and the next he was surrounded by a veil of red mist swallowed up by the resentment of the situation. Bobby had never felt so helpless. He reached out once more in an attempt to stop Sam's pummelling and again the stubborn Winchester fought him but Bobby stood his ground and held firm.

"Sam, do you think Dean would want this?" he reasoned struggling against the strength of Sam's hold, "Do you think he'd want you to hurt yourself, to self-destruct like this? I know it's only been less than a day since he's been taken from us but he spent his life protecting you from harm, he wouldn't want you to do damage to yourself like this, he'd want you to take care of yourself, to stay safe."

Without warning, Sam spun around focusing his deadly attention on the older hunter, grabbing him by the shirt to face him head on. "Why in the Hell should I care about what Dean would want?" he spat out with the venom of a viper. "He didn't seem to be thinking about what I wanted when he made his pact with the devil now did he?"

Bobby said nothing nor did he try to get out of the vice-like grip Sam had on him. Instead he watched the trickles of blood from Sam's hand stain his plaid shirt and let the boy vent.

"No, Dean just had to play the hero like the egotistical bastard that he is," Sam continued to rant, tightening his grip "leaving me here alone in this shit hole of a world to carry on without him. And why? Because what's dead should stay dead doesn't seem to apply when it comes to me, because he'd rather resurrect a corpse and give up his own life than risk disappointing a dead father by failing to keep me safe, because when all said and done he's a fucking coward who doesn't think twice about leaving me on my own just because he couldn't face being alone himself!"

Sam's voice and eyes held a frighteningly brutal hint of malice but Bobby knew it was a smokescreen put in place by a young man who was hurting so goddamn much that he was hitting out in any way he could. Still that didn't mean that Sam could demean the sacrifices that Dean had made for him not only in his final hour but all of his cruel short life and he meant to put him straight.

"Listen to me boy," Bobby countered, pushing back against Sam causing him to stumble, "Dean Winchester could have been accused of being a lot of things but a coward was never one of them. That lad had more courage in his little finger than most of the hunters I have ever known put together, your dad included. Yes he could be a dumb ass and let his bravery override his common sense sometimes but every battle he ever fought he fought for you and for his family and there is no way in Hell I will ever, EVER let you cheapen what he gave up for you!"

Bobby's inadvertent choice of words seemed to take the sting out of Sam's resistance and Bobby could feel the fight fading from the last remaining Winchester as his hands loosened their hold and grief once more took residence in Sam's face.

"You were everything to him Sam," Bobby continued, his voice now taking on more of a paternal tone, "and the pride he felt at being your brother made him into the incredible man we both know he was."

Sam's body appeared to lose all tension and he would have crumbled against Bobby had the older hunter not reached out to place his hand lovingly against Sam's face lifting his head up to meet him eye to eye before carrying on. "He once told me that making that deal, that bringing you back meant that his life could finally mean something. Please don't take that away from him Sam, please let his death mean something too."

Sam looked dolefully at his mentor. "Bobby," he whimpered completely shattered by the confession of Dean's worth, "he was everything to me too. How am I supposed to go on without him?"

Bobby shook his head ruefully pulling Sam into a comforting and healing embrace. "I don't know kid," he replied honestly rubbing Sam's back as he felt the youth tremble with tears against him, "but we'll figure it out together, I promise you that."

o0o00O00o0o

Bobby wasn't sure how long he spent holding Sam by the side of the road, nor did he know how long it took him before he could finally manoeuvre Sam back to the car to continue their journey to South Dakota. What he did know was that the sun was setting by the time they both finally pulled into the old junkyard that Bobby Singer was happy to call home.

He looked over towards the passenger seat to see Sam sleeping just as he had been for the last couple of hours of the drive. Sam had finally given in to emotional exhaustion for which Bobby was thankful. He was half tempted to leave the boy right where he slept but that would be just cruel. The last thing Sam needed was to wake up to an empty driver's seat, a seat that was usually filled with the larger than life character that was Dean Winchester. Instead he let him stay there just long enough for him to unpack the Impala's trunk with their bags and weapons and to feed his hungry, waiting dogs.

When he could put it off no longer, Bobby circled the length of the Impala and came to crouch beside the passenger seat. Sam looked so peaceful, the torment of the last 24 hours, the last year temporarily no longer etched on his rested features. Bobby hated the thought of breaking that tranquillity, of forcing Sam back into their harsh reality but reluctantly he opened the door, reached across and gently shook Sam. The reaction was instantaneous.

Sam immediately jolted awake; the name on his lips an automatic response. "Dean?" he asked, the weariness he felt leading to obvious confusion.

"Sorry Sam," Bobby said in sombre reply, "'fraid it's just me"

Sam gave a rue smile, rubbing his hands across his face as his memory caught up with his consciousness. "Sorry Bobby," he said in sad resignation, "I guess I just forgot where I was for the moment."

"Can't say I blame you kid" Bobby replied in earnest, "I think we both wish we could be in some other place or some other time where all there is to worry about is moonbeams and rainbows instead of all this shit we always seem to land in."

Sam's smile widened a little. He certainly appreciated his friend's blunt candour and the way that Bobby was being a stalwart just for him. It couldn't be easy for Bobby to swallow down his own sorrow, after all he had always shared a special relationship with Dean but Sam also knew that Bobby was acting under instruction.

"_Make sure Sammy's OK. Help him get through this because you just know he's gonna fall apart like a girl!"_

Sam could almost hear the ghost of Dean's directive to the older hunter echoing in his ears and it kept the smile lingering on his face for a little while longer.

"So we here?" he asked, breaking himself free of his reflective reverie

"Yep" Bobby nodded "home sweet hovel," he confirmed stepping away from the door to allow Sam to get out of the car.

Sam unfolded his long and now slightly aching frame to look past Bobby at the familiar array of old cars piled up in various states of disrepair across the mechanic's backyard. He'd never really settled anywhere long enough to call a home as home to Sam had always been wherever Dean was but there were places that he liked to think of as safe havens, Pastor Jim's farm at Blue Earth for example or the dormitory he shared with Jessica at Stanford and here at Singer's Auto Salvage yard. It felt right that he should come back to one of these havens to try and seek some comfort at his loss when to all intent purposes comfort was nowhere to be found.

He followed Bobby into the house, stepping out of the way of the over exuberant bloodhound that came out to greet him, lapping at his heels begging for attention. Sam patted the eager dog as he passed by and entered the kitchen stopping dead in his tracks at the sight of the worn dining table standing resolutely in the room's centre. Before he could do anything about it, his mind wandered back to a couple of days previous when he and Dean had been bickering like teenagers over Dean's constant attempts to steal bacon from Sam's breakfast plate. Sam lost count of the number of times he had been forced to slap his brother's hand away and how in the end he had resorted to finishing his breakfast at breakneck speed giving himself indigestion in the process while his brother laughed on.

Although it was a fond memory, it also reminded Sam that he had forgotten about this part of the grieving process, how places and things that seemed insignificant to some would bring forward a cavalcade of memory, longing and regret to him.

For months after Jessica's death he would see her face grace the cover of her favourite magazines whenever he walked passed them on the drugstore shelves, he would hear her voice singing so harmoniously out of tune each time some small town rock radio station played Bon Jovi's _Living on a Prayer _and he'd smell her sweet scent whenever he came into contact with white, long stemmed roses. There were times when he even thought he saw her standing on street corners calling out to him, waiting for him, needing him.

Her 'haunting' had faded with time and he had his brother in large to thank for that, but this felt different. Jessica had taken residence in Sam's heart for a solitary two years but Dean had been a part of everything Sam had lived and breathed since he was born and he didn't think there was anywhere he could look, any sound he could hear, anything he could feel or touch that wouldn't be saturated with Dean's high-spirited, courageous and amusingly clever persona. The void of Dean's absence would stay with him forever.

"Are you hungry kid?" Bobby asked interrupting Sam's introspective musings, "If you are I could probably rustle up some bacon."

Sam smirked a little at his friend's choice of words. "At least I might actually get a chance to eat it this time," he whispered fondly to no one but himself.

Bobby looked at him with a hint of confusion but Sam merely waved his concerns away. "Thanks for the offer Bobby but I'm fine," he assured, "I'm not really all that hungry"

Hearing Sam's refusal of food brought a memory of his own flashing back to Bobby as just a year ago it had been the elder Winchester refusing to digest anything, anything other than the contents of a liquor bottle that is, as he dealt with Sam's death. Dean's devastation had led to an act of desperation and there hadn't been a single day that had passed since where Bobby didn't feel the overwhelming guilt of leaving Dean alone when he was at his most vulnerable. Dean had been able to make his heartbreaking deal with the Devil because there had been no one there to watch his back and Bobby was determined that particular bolt of lightning was not about to strike twice.

Dean may be in Hell but there was no way he was going to stay there, not if Bobby had anything to do with it anyway. He was going to do everything in his power, by fair means or foul to get his beloved boy out of the fiery pits but by the same rule he was not going to allow Sam to be the third Winchester sacrificed in order to do it. He had made a promise to take care of Sam and he would and together they would find a way to get the heart of their close-knit family back.

"You really should try and eat something Sam," Bobby urged, putting the first part of his take-care-of-Sammy plan into action, "You haven't eaten anything since, well since...". Try as he might he couldn't actually bring himself to say the words 'since your brother died'. It was as painful for Bobby to say as it was for Sam to hear but he knew that Sam would get his meaning nevertheless.

"I know Bobby," Sam admitted wearily, appreciative of his friend's concern, "but I'm fine honestly."

Noticing the scepticism in Bobby's brow, Sam raised a hand to stop the inevitable protest.

"I really am fine Bobby," he explained, "I'm just feeling a little too tired to eat that's all," and at that moment never a truer word had been spoken. Sam was bone weary and emotionally drained from the amount of turbulent trauma he had been through in the past few hours, trying to eat anything was the last thing on his mind. "Let me get some sleep," he added, "and I swear when I wake later I'll feast on whatever you put in front of me."

Bobby couldn't help but chuckle at that, "What? And give yourself gut rot to worry about on top of everything else?" he teased, "you jonesing for indigestion or somethin' son?"

Bobby's jibing felt so familiar that Sam couldn't help but give in to a sad smile filling Bobby with hope that maybe just maybe he could help the young man he loved so much through one of the toughest times of his young life after all. He also knew it was going to be a two way street and that he would need Sam every bit as Sam needed him. "Why don't you go on upstairs and catch up on some sleep then, "he said ushering Sam towards the stairwell.

Sam nodded and made his move to leave but hesitated a moment by the open stairway. "Thanks Bobby," he whispered, giving a reserved glance over his shoulder, "I'm glad you're here with me." The unspoken '_now that Dean isn't it' _didn't go unnoticed by the seasoned hunter especially as he shared the sentiment with the man before him.

"Kid, there's nowhere else I'd rather be," he responded with genuine affection, "now get up those stairs and get some sleep before I tell Sabre he can share a bed with ya for the night, fleas an' all."

Sam gave a final touched and appreciative smile and ascended the stairs out of Bobby's view.

Left alone, Bobby's own exhaustion caught up with him, keeping up a brave front was tiring work. He sauntered over to the large armoire in the corner of the living room and poured himself a large glass of mature malt whiskey before collapsing into his favourite, battered armchair. Sabre, sensing his master's melancholy rested his large head on Bobby's lap relying on his doleful eyes to supply comfort where it was needed

With no further need to maintain his barriers, Bobby Singer succumbed to the emotional ambush he had been holding in since witnessing Dean's torn, bloodied and butchered body. Tears now flowed in unchecked rivers down his weathered face, his composure never more threatened since the loss of his wife.

He had spent the last year in conflict, kept awake at night by Dean's course of action. As crazed as he had been about the lengths Dean had gone to in order to get his brother back, the truth was Dean had saved Sam and in doing so had brought the virtuousness and conscience of the Winchester family back to life where he deserved to be and there was no way that Bobby would ever regret having a living, breathing Sam in his world.

But on the flip side of the coin by his selfless act Dean had condemned himself to die and by doing so was now fated to spend an eternity in damnation, the one thing that a man of Dean's calibre did not deserve. It was bad enough that John Winchester had gone down that fiery road but for Dean to travel its lengths too the mere thought turned Bobby's stomach.

Yet what was the alternative?

In order for Dean to live then Sam would have to have remained dead and that wasn't an option either.

Which Winchester son was more expendable?

It was a question that Bobby could have no possible answer for yet Dean had responded to in a heartbeat and without hesitation. He had put his family first, just as he always had and it hurt Bobby to his very core.

Bobby raised his glass in honour of his fallen friend and the sacrifices he had made all his young life. ""You're my hero kid," he murmured with sad and proud satisfaction at the man Dean Winchester had become, "and there is no way I'm giving up on you. I'm getting you back Dean, if it takes everything I have left to give I'm getting you back"

* * *

AUTHOR NOTE: I am considering a 2nd chapter of this but will only write it if you think its worth bothering with


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